Movie Night
Jan. 27th, 2011 08:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Face/Murdock
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the kink meme.
Movie-verse.Post Movie? Face and Murdock are having a night in while Hannibal and Ba are out. They're staying somewhere fancy and the conversation turns to Face's scamming skills etc etc.. ending up with Face agreeing to show Murdock how he would seduce a mark. Face then ends up spending hours gently making out with, making love to and driving Murdock out of (what's left of) his mind. Afterwards they both pretend to be cool with it, but Murdock is secretly devastated, no one's ever been like that with him and he thinks it was all an act. Face is horrified and confused 'cos he has never opened up like that before and it stopped being an act about 5 minutes after they began. Angsty times ensue. Bonus points if Hannibal and BA put them, er... straight.
Murdock and Face have a movie night where they both get something they’ve wanted for a long time, one that all goes to hell...
“No, really! How’d you get us this place this time, Faceman?”
Murdock loved how his voice echoed through the long hallway, up from the prep kitchen, down to the movie theater, where he knew the conman would be sprawled out in a plush leather lounge chair. Maybe scratching himself. He did that, when he thought nobody was watching.
Likes to pretend he’s better than all of that, Murdock thought to himself, but underneath all that expensive moisturizer, the good el-tee was a guy just like the rest of them.
Well, not exactly like the rest of them.
Prettier.
A lot prettier.
Good at getting places like this for them.
And the pilot shook the pot on the stove in the kitchen and smiled at that. back to safe thoughts, allowed thought, good thoughts. This house actually had three kitchens. Three kitchens, jacuzzi-sized bathtubs, a vast exercise room and a garage painted Ferrari red that had nearly given BA a heart attack.
Damn, it was nice to have a good place to crash in between missions.
The popping had stopped and Murdock stirred in the melted contents of the saucepan, dumped the whole thing into a big glass salad bowl. If they were going to have movie night, and if they were staying in a place this swank, they were going to have the good stuff. Real popcorn with real butter, like gran used to make.
“No, really, Face, how d’ya do it?” he yelled, sauntering down the hall. “It’s
“It’s all in the wrist, buddy!” Face replied, stretching a little to reach the remote for the DVD player as the projector warmed up. Hannibal and BA were out for the evening, the big guy at some wrestling thing and Hannibal with vague references to something that was either a jazz bar or a girl. So they were having movie night.
Murdock’s choice, Face had told the pilot, and the other man’s face had just lit up. So many choices. This place had a comprehensive library of movies, all kinds of movies, and he hadn’t been able to resist.
“Oh, motherfucker, Murdock! Timecop?”
“Turn back the clock and you’re history!” Murdock intoned cheerfully, and flopped down in the chair next to Face, popcorn scattering from the bowl. The lieutenant reached over automatically and rescued their snack before it upended. Face had already procured a TV tray for this purpose. Thinking of everything.
“You have got to be joking!”
“Sorry,” Murdock said sheepishly, looking over to see if his friend was really angry. “It’s just, you know, Timecop.”
“Dude,” Face agreed grudgingly as the film started. He was watching it, Murdock thought triumphantly.
“Wanna beer?”
“Hell yes.”
Murdock jumped up and made for the minifridge. Pabst, an acquired taste from college he’d never been able to buck. Face looked at it, started laughing as he took the can, and something in Murdock’s stomach flipflopped at the sound.
Like it always did.
He didn’t really understand it.
Ever since their second escape, over the past two years, since jail and the mission that had jacked their lives to shit, things had been different. Not just the running and the hiding and the strange jobs, but the closeness, the interdependencies had been deepening, changing, everything shifting around. Rules... changing.
Maybe he was the only one who’d noticed. Murdock wondered about that sometimes, how the other guys were faring. Hard enough staying up on what was going on in his own head without trying to figure theirs out for them. But maybe he understood better, cause sometimes he felt like he was the only one paying attention...
“Faceman?” he asked, blurting out the first thing that came to mind, trying to get away from the scary dark place the other thought was headed. Like a night flight with no instrumentation, except those were always...
“Mm-hmm?”
Half the movie was over. When had that happened? “How’d ya get this place?”
“Scammed it, buddy.” Face seemed really into the movie. Murdock smiled. Victory was his. Even if he was going to have to watch another sappy romance movie the next time it was Face's turn to pick.
“Yeah, but how?” This was what he was thinking about now. Not whatever he was wondering about before. This was a good thing to ask. “I mean, you don’t jus’ smile at the nice real estate lady an’ she hands over the keys to the castle...”
“Well, it’s a little more complicated than that,” Face shrugged, settled all the way back in the chair, nearly horizontal with the footrest up like that, can in hand. He waved it around a little as he talked. “You know, you have to do some, err...”
“Squeezin’?”
“I was gonna say pumping, but yeah.” Face sat up, eyes shiny with two beers and Murdock realized there were several more on the floor. His? Probably. “It’s not exactly Army-approved but it works. Hell, works really well.”
“I’ve never seen you do that.”
“You’ve seen me pick up girls all the time.”
“Not really. We mostly hear you flirt with ‘em on the phone or slap an ass or two...”
“What, you want to know how it works? Like, a demonstration or something?”
Murdock shrugged, and noticed something very important. Neither one of them was watching Jean Claude Van Damm flex his muscles up on the screen anymore.
They were looking at each other.
And the pilot felt a surge of fear as he realized his earlier thoughts and the more recent thoughts were merging into some new thought that would destroy the universe or something, crossing the streams, and Dr. Spengler said never to do that...
“We don’t have a girl around,” Murdock said, a little nervous now, the giggle coming out. “I don’t think they got any oversized stuffed animals we could practice with...”
Face laughed at that, alcohol just coloring the edge of the sound, and Murdock laughed along with him. The image of Face making out with a teddy bear was almost enough to set everything back to normal, but then his buddy said... “Okay, so, here’s the thing, and and you can’t tell cause Hannibal would kill if he knew...”
“Cross my heart,” Murdock said seriously, making the little sign over his heart.
“It’s, uh, it’s kind of funny, but it’s not always girls.” Face leaned down on his arm and smiled at Murdock. The pilot knew that smile. The same smile he used on a mark. That was part of this that Murdock had seen before.
The world started tilting, tilting enough for things to start sliding off that should have stayed in place. The words came out in Murdock’s voice. He didn’t ask them to. They just... came out. “Me neither.”
“Well, cool, so... want me to, uh, show you how it works?”
And everything came loose, all at the wrong time. “...sure.”
Face licked his lips a little and swung himself over the arm of the chair, walked over to Murdock. “Come on, buddy. Up.”
“What, Facey, thought you were jus’ gonna show...”
“Need a second person, duh. Come on, on your feet, captain.”
“Can’t we...” Murdock didn’t want to do this. This was going to be bad. He could tell. Paying attention to things that others didn’t see, he knew that this was going to be bad. But there Face was, hauling him vertical and straightening his shirt. That was hilarious. It was just his old Decepticon t-shirt, favorite jeans, nothing special. Face was kind of sizing him up. “Shouldn’t we...”
“Naw, it’s a game, always just a game,” his buddy said, clearly thinking of this as nothing more than that. Good. A game. He could do that. Games were good. “You want to see what I do with a female or a male mark?”
“It that different?”
“Can be. Depends. Everybody’s different,” Face said casually. He laid a soft hand on Murdock’s shoulder, walking around him once. “So, I look at you, I kind of take you in, figure out what you want, and then, you know, give you that.”
Murdock felt something flutter inside of him as the lieutenant, his friend, stopped right in front of him. “And what do I want, Faceman?”
“Oh, there’s a bell curve. Let’s stay within a standard deviation of that,” Face replied, leaning in just a little, just enough to brush his lips against Murdock’s. His hand was on Murdock’s chest, right above his heart. The pilot had to force himself to be still. To not fall into that touch.
Just a game.
“See? An overture, nothing forceful, nice and easy.”
“’S nice.”
“Yeah, I know, right? Okay, so, if the mark likes the invitation, they want more.” Murdock didn’t move, and Face leaned in, breath ghosting over his ear. “Work with me, buddy. Pretend I’m seducing this house out of you.”
“Okay.” Games. Good. Right. “W-why would I let you have this house?”
“Please?” Face replied, pressing his lips to Murdock’s, more than before but still chaste. Lips closed. Little pecks. Peck, and Murdock almost giggled again. “This is the part where I tell you some bullshit story that you believe because I’m so good at lying.” Those lips again, open now, the pilot’s opening under their gentle assault. Tongue. Soft, everything soft and easy. Face’s other hand moved to the pilot’s waist, that hand still trapped between them, their bodies so close, so warm. That kiss, turning and twisting but still so light, so good.
“Maybe I make you feel sad for me.” The kiss goes back to those little pecks again, leaving space for words. “Works best when you feel sorry for me. Protective instincts and all that.”
“Sounds...good.”
Face smiled, and Murdock realized that both the conman’s arms were up around his shoulders. That smile was dazzling, truly amazing. Like it was all for him. Like he was dazzling, amazing himself. A hand stroked into his hair. “It’s not that easy, buddy. Usually.”
“Then I think I need some more convincin’.”
“Okay.” There was a tease in Face’s voice, airy somehow, like being up in the clouds. “Please help me out here, sir. Need this...”
The kissing was back. And the kissing was good. The kissing was more than good. Murdock had never kissed anyone like this, never been kissed like this. Didn’t know kissing could be this good. Gentle but hard, no argument, deeper and deeper, breath stolen, arms tightened. Like Face was taking him apart, piece by piece, every molecule flying away, covalent bonds dissolving under the relentless assault of that horrendously talented mouth.
Murdock didn’t know how to respond. Everything was starting to crumble apart. It had never been like this. Usually people just took what they wanted and left, nothing good for him. But this just kept going and going and going.
And it was all good.
A really good game.
Walking down the hall, hands roaming, staying so light, so wonderful. Not demanding anything of him, not asking for anything. Offering. Everything on offer, everything Face was, everything Face could do, he could feel it against him. Coming to the surface. He'd never wanted anything so much in his life. He'd never wanted to run so, so badly.
But they were already running, weren't they? Towards, away, he didn't know. He didn't know where they were going.
Murdock was dimly aware that they were moving. Where to, he wasn’t sure until he blinked a few times. Oh, and that made sense. The den, one of the dens, the one that overlooked the pool outside, the one with the big windows Murdock liked so much, where you could see the stars, and the big white sofas.
Like the sofa Face was lowering himself onto, pulling Murdock down over the top of him, not breaking the kiss for a moment.
“Can I please use this place, sir?”
Oh right, the game. He liked the game. He liked that is was a game. “I think I’m okay with it.”
“It’s such a favor,” Face whispered in his ear. Hands tickled under the Starscream tee. A leg wrapped over the top of old jeans. Hips ground upwards. “Let me thank you properly.”
A full body shiver ran through Murdock, and he stared up into those blue eyes. The ones he'd seen nearly ten years ago, as bright and keen as they had been then. Ten years and a game. Well, a man took what he could get. "Just the game, right?"
Face paused for a moment, the smile fading and coming back. "Yeah, buddy."
His mouth felt dry. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
Face’s fingers worked their way around the soft fabric of Murdock’s t-shirt, peeling it off and away. It landed somewhere Murdock didn’t see, because the conman’s mouth was at his ear, palms moving again. “Then usually the mark...”
Oh yeah. Right. A mark would probably do something here too, right? Made sense. What Face was doing with his hands right now made Murdock want him. Want to see him, see him like Face was seeing him.
Or would be. But it was just a demonstration. Show and tell.
Murdock worked the buttons of Face’s own shirt apart and as soon as he hit the last one, Face was pushing up on one hand, letting it fall off that shoulder in some smooth, probably patented seduction move. The pale green, slipping away, revealing all that tanned, toned muscle. The pilot took it in for a moment. Not like in the showers or one of those times when Face was just walking around naked to piss Hannibal off. Nope. Not like that.
This was all for him.
Or would be.
If it wasn’t a game.
Good thing it was, because he couldn’t resist.
Murdock just had to slide that other sleeve down, run his hand back up, all the way up, up against the stubble. Face leaned into it, put a little of his weight on Murdock’s hand, letting him cradle him there for a moment, blue gone from his eyes now, and then the two of them were kissing again. More skin, more friction.
Very nice.
Face certainly knew what he was doing, Murdock thought, and then the lieutenant flipped them both around so it was the pilot who was on his back, and knew what Face was doing, and he almost panicked. But if he did that, the game would end.
Murdock didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t know when they’d get to play this again.
But then the rules changed.
His friend, his very best friend, had laid a hand back where it was before, over the hammering in Murdock’s chest. Slithered down, managing to rub every inch of them together. Kneeled between curled knees. Unbuckled, unzipped, undid, undoing...
“Hey, Faceman?”
“What is it, buddy?”
It was a mistake, but nothing was in its right place right now, so Murdock said it. “It, uh, this, I’d believe you.”
Wait, no. Not that. Wrong thing to say. Wasn't it the wrong thing to say? Too real, too real, too real...
But it got him a wink. Reassurance. Reminder. That Face was just playing a game and that was okay because he was playing, too. Not real. “That’s cause I’m really, really grateful.”
Murdock wanted to reply, say he understood, but groaned instead in a voice he didn’t recognize and a language he didn’t remember as that tongue licked up the underside of his cock, swirled over the head, and took him in fully.
Everything flew apart after that.
Moments stretched out into hours, shifted and twisted back into themselves, a mobius strip of sensation, things coming in and out and ending and starting. The game kept changing, too quick for Murdock to follow. He’d concentrate on something and it would slip away, the feel of Face’s hair, his mouth, the smooth slide of fingers, night air, the hard insistence of that cock against his thigh, the way dawn felt before it came, the quiet little whispers, telling him he was beautiful, perfect, wanted, kissing, breath not his own, the scent exhaled there, like cheap beer and gunpowder and the thrill of a good hunt, good shot, good laugh, the sweet little smile that was all an act and he closed his eyes against it all and suddenly realized that there was no pain.
No pain at all.
He was looking for the pain, because there was always pain with these things, but there wasn’t any, and didn’t that make sense in a way? Because it was just a game and a game couldn’t hurt you.
He lay there in Face’s bed, or his bed, or BA’s, or maybe Hannibal’s or one of the six other in the house, watching the new day move over the ceiling, sneaking in through the wide, wide window. His buddy was stretched out beside him on his belly, limbs scattered around in the sheets. Easy.
Of course it was easy.
Just a game.
And it was over, so there was no reason to stay. Murdock padded out, picking up his jeans from where they’d fallen and pulled them on, headed to the den to grab his t-shirt. Face’s was closer, and that’s what ended up in his hand.
“You boys have a good night?” Hannibal, Hannibal standing behind him in the doorway, coffee and cigar balanced in the same hand, eyes a little glossy.
“Swam the English channel!” This was another game Murdock played, played with everybody, giving them something they wanted to see so they didn’t look anywhere else. Like Face, but all the time and with everyone. Not just when the team needed something, not just when it was fun. “I think I set a new record!”
Hannibal jabbed at the shirt in Murdock’s hands. “You boys go for a swim?”
He looked at it. “Watched Timecop, too!”
The boss rolled his eyes, muttered something about twelve year olds and kept walking. Down the hall and away. Murdock listened to him go, and looked at the shirt in his hands. He’d forgotten it was there. How’d he forget that?
Curious at how something so real could disappear so quickly and come back again, Murdock brought it to his face and breathed deep. like cheap beer and gunpowder and the thrill of a good hunt, good shot, good laugh, good friend, good game...
All of it. Just a game.
He dropped the shirt and fled for the hall, the bathroom, the tub, suddenly frightened of how things could do that to him, be there and not be there and he couldn’t there either, not with that shirt that wasn’t there but was. Murdock clawed the facet and the water came and he sat under the spray as his jeans got heavier and heavier, anchoring him down until he finally remembered what was real.
How much this hurt. Like it always hurt, but different. Worse.
And then the tears came.
+++++
“Have you seen Murdock today?” Face yawned, shuffling into the show kitchen, the really nice one on the main floor, and going for a cabinet. BA’s secret stash of junk food. He plunked the foil-wrapped packet down on the counter, grabbed a can out of the fridge, and noticed Hannibal staring at him over the top of a newspaper.
“Beer and pop-tarts, lieutenant?”
Face stared back and popped the tab on the beer. Another of Murdock’s PBRs, and he wasn’t in the mood for the boss’ bullshit right now. He’d woken up alone, and for the first time in years, that bothered him. It bothered him a lot. “I just haven’t seen him.”
“He was in the den this morning, picking up your clothes.” Hannibal tapped the ash off his cigar, watching his lieutenant wolf down one of the pack’s frosted pastry. “Swimming the English Channel, I think it was.”
Last night had been... and Face smirked at the colonel, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. English Channel? He could go with that. “You get laid last night, boss?”
“Murdock’s taking a shower, kid,” Hannibal said, shaking the paper back out. “Put some damn clothes on for once, would ya?”
And Face figured that was all he was going to get. He slapped the other pop-tart on top of his beer and made his way back to his bedroom.
Where Murdock wasn’t.
His stomach tightened, thinking about it. How he’d taken the pilot, their, his, crazy, beautiful pilot, by the hand and led him back here. Said things, did things, things he hadn’t wanted to, things he couldn’t stop, things he could never take back, things he could never forget.
Face hadn’t meant to, hadn’t meant for that to happen, hadn’t meant for it to get...
He stopped by the bathroom, one of the bathrooms, where he heard the shower running and where Murdock had to be. He knocked, then tried the handle, but Murdock wasn’t answering and the door was locked. “Hey, buddy, you okay in there?”he asked.
There was a pause. “Yeah, Faceman! Gotta get all that seawater off!”
“Right,” Face replied, too soft for Murdock to hear over the noise of the running water, and turned back to his own room.
His own room, where Murdock should have been, had been, just a few hours before, the two of them wrapped around each other, coming down together, Face still deep inside him, playing that beautiful dark hair out of those stormy blue eyes, calm for once, full. Both of them, full. Himself, full. Like he’d never...
Face flopped back into the bed.
Motherfucker, he could smell Murdock on the sheets, that warm, warm smell, and Face burrowed into it, just for a moment, just to feel it again.
What the hell had they done?
What the hell had he done?
+++++
Hannibal was working on a job for them. Boss told them so as soon as BA crawled out of wherever, whenever he crashed last night. Screened the client last night, everything looked just fine. Should be starting in a few days, nothing too complicated, and Murdock was even going to get to fly a chopper.
Thank fuck, Face thought, and got his fourth beer of the morning. He couldn't take another guys' night in. It might kill him.
Lunch soon, the pilot outside messing with the grill, something vague about burgers and coleslaw. The lieutenant sipped, not knowing if he was drunk or not. He suspected not. It rarely happened anymore.
That’s what you get for learning to drink in the military. That was his super power. As Murdock would say.
Murdock. Out playing with the grill. The beer wasn’t making that sick feeling in Face’s stomach go away, but it wasn’t making it worse. His buddy spent an hour in the shower, possibly keeping with the nautical theme of the morning, and when he finally emerged, wrapped in a towel and waving broadly as he passed Face in the hallway.
Unaffected, the conman thought with a sinking heart. Everything was a game to the pilot, nothing solid, nothing real. Why would... is sex even the right word for what they did last night? Seemed like sex, tasted and sounded like sex usually tasted and sounded, but it hadn’t felt like sex.
It had been more like...
Face groaned to himself before that could surface. Did he really need to face that, deal with that word, that thing? He knew he screwed up. Fuck, he’d put too much of himself out there last night. He wanted, hadn’t known it until, hasn’t realized...
“Faceman, what’d ya do to him?”
Face winced. BA. Fuck. BA, and he schooled his features in careful neutrality. “What do you mean, Bosco?”
A hand wrapped up in his shirt and drug him away from the window, out of the den that overlooks the pool and hurtled him against the back of the hallway. “What did you do?”
He hadn’t ever heard BA sound like this. This clear. This... controlled.
That anger, aimed at him, and how much worse was it going to be if the big guy found out... and it hit him - did he break the pilot? No, no, that couldn’t be true. He couldn’t hurt Murdock. He wasn’t capable. He hadn’t known how incapable of that he was until last night.
So it’s not really lying to BA when he said, “nothing, I swear. We watched movies.” It was a desperate bid for that to be true. It had to be true. Because he couldn’t have hurt Murdock.
That couldn’t happen.
BA stared at him for a moment. Stared right through him, and hit the wall beside Face’s head. Stormed off towards the garage. “Whatever you did, you ain’t doing it again, fool!”
“Okay, I promise, no more Van Damm movies!” Face yelled back down the hall after him, and only managed to stay upright until the big guy vanished from sight.
Then his legs stopped working for a while.
When he was able to stand, he pulled himself back up the wall with a sweating hand, and retrieved his beer and sauntered out onto the wide patio, with the grill and Hannibal, reading in the sunlight, where Murdock watched him for a moment, just a moment, before clapping him on the shoulder and asking him something that seemed totally innocent in that stream of consciousness babble.
“We okay, man?” Face asked, stopping the pilot mid-stride.
“Fine, Faceman,” and that crooked little smile, the one he loved so much, was back. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”
“I was a little drunk last night and, uh, I think I might have...”
“Nothing to it. Think you’re the victor o’ that game anyway,” Murdock said with a nod and went back to the grill. “You want yours still mooing?”
There was a lock of hair hanging in his friend’s face, and it was all the lieutenant could do to keep from slicking it back behind an ear himself. He wanted to touch it again. Wanted to touch everything again.
But he couldn’t. Murdock had already moved on.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be great.”
+++++
The job had gone all to shit. Three weeks, and it had all gone to shit.
It should have been easy. Should have been simple. Hannibal’s plan was flawless, just like Hannibal’s plans were always flawless, and the job was simple. There was nothing to it.
And everything had gone to shit.
Hannibal’s done yelling. Hannibal’s done with everything. The colonel had just chewed Face out over his complete and utter lack of discipline, his failure to make the con work, and now he’s running, like he likes to sometimes, but usually not after a job this bad.
They’d almost all gotten arrested. BA had been shot. And now Hannibal was running. Murdock doesn’t know what Face was doing. It was all just... bad.
“That fool done yet?” BA grunts and Murdock hands him a glass of water.
“Sounds like.”
“And you? No lightning bolts.”
The big guy’s not really hurt, not too bad anyway. They’ve all had worse and Murdock pulled the bullet out himself, stitching it up right now. He’s got BA knocked up on a couple of Valium from his own collection, the good stuff, the stuff Face scams for him...
And Murdock almost drops the needle.
“Watch whatcha doing, fool!”
“Sorry,” the pilot says, and cringes a little. “No lightnin’ bolt, promise.”
BA is drugged up, laid out on the table in the kitchen of the place they’re staying now. Not nearly as nice as this last place, but decent. The bullet went in the meat right below his hip, missed the bone, didn’t penetrate very deep. “Faceman okay?”
“I don’t know.” He can’t meet the mechanic’s eyes. “I don’t know.”
“You know everything he’s doin’, Murdock.”
Murdock has to think about that. No, he doesn’t know anymore, not since Face won the game. No victory for Murdock in defeat.
“Don’t make any sense, BA,” he says, thinking about it. “Why’s Hannibal mad?”
“Face fucked up, got us made.”
“How could Face fuck up?” Murdock pulls the last stitch tight and clips it. He’s watched enough medical drama to know how to do this right. Slaps a dressing down. “He’s so good at that game.”
BA’s drugged up, but that doesn’t mean he’s not aware. And isn’t that so like BA, Murdock thinks. He’s paying attention all the time. He’s the only of them that doesn’t play games. Maybe that’s why he seems to understand it all. Maybe that’s how he catches what Murdock didn’t mean to let slip. “How would you know that, crazy fool?”
Everything’s been slipping loose lately. Like his stupid words. Nothing stays where he leaves it anymore. Like Face. Face isn’t where he left him in bed that morning, all cocky and easy and victorious. Face wins. Face always wins, because Face is so good at the game. “It’s what he is, BA. Hannibal runs and you build and Face wins.”
“I was home that night, HM,” and Murdock starts at that, he’s never heard the big guy use his name, or initial. Moniker, whatever. See, see, Murdock tells himself. Not even BA isn’t where he’s supposed to be. He’s not building anything up.
He’s taking it apart. Why does BA want to take him apart, too?
“I came back ‘round midnight. Heard you two...”
“Wasn’t nothin’, BA.”
“Nothin’ makes it worse, Murdock. You know it bein’ nothing makes it worse.” A frown creases the black man’s face, where it’s propped up on his hands, watching Murdock wash his blood off the mat knife and tweezers down the kitchen sink. Everything, just washing away. The pilot can’t bring himself to respond, and BA leaves it alone, go back to something earlier, back before everything slipped loose, like it never happened. “What do you do, Murdock?”
Where’s Face? Why isn’t Face in here? Why isn’t Face in here, joking with BA and making jokes about how that cop took a piece out of his ass and whining about how, how...
“I float,” he tells BA, and smiles. “Ain’t that the way it’s s’posed t’be?”
BA doesn’t say anything. It’s going to be a while before they can get him off the table. He’s a lot of weight to move. Can't shift that loose too easy, and Murdock curls up on a chair next to him, touching that solid bulk, not wanting to slip like everything else is slipping.
He closes his eyes, and doesn't think about Face.
+++++
Hannibal doesn’t show up until well after dark, sweatshirt stained down to the hem and panting hard.
“Get the fuck off the front porch,” he growls, barely looking down.
Face spreads his hands, hears the door jerk open and something in him snaps. That something that’s been building up for the past three weeks, since that stupid fucking movie and the stupid fucking question and his stupid fucking offer, and it’s all been wrong since then.
He can’t stop thinking about it. He thought it would leave his mind and it won’t, and he can’t face anything. Not the damn con, not the team, not his best friend... “Boss...”
Those feet stop and the door slams shut again, and Hannibal’s staring down at him. Face doesn’t need to look up to the man to know that. Twelve years, and Face just knows when the man’s staring at him. “What is it, lieutenant?”
Okay, so the boss is resorting to rank right now, but at least he’s not screaming. Anymore. “I fucked up,” he says slowly.
“Yeah you did. And we already...”
“I couldn’t do it, Hannibal.”
“What, you couldn’t pull a con you’ve pulled a hundred times? What was so complicated about it, Face? All you had to do was...”
“...sleep with that stockbroker’s wife, right?” Hannibal’s not saying anything. Face still can’t look up at him. “You did realize that’s you were asking me to do?”
“What do you want me to say to that, kid?”
“You treat me like the team whore.”
“You treat yourself like the team whore, Face! Don’t put that on me! There were a hundred ways you could have approached that situation and you chose...”
“...to not sleep with them.”
Oh, fuck. Pronouns, goddamn them.
“Exactly, if you’d just...” and then Hannibal gets it. Because then Hannibal goes quiet, and sits down next to Face. The kid pulls his knees up to his chest and stares at nothing. “What do you mean, them?”
“There was the couple, like, the wife and... the husband.”
“What are you talking about?”
Face doesn’t really know. He couldn’t do it, hadn’t been able to do it. The wife wanted a threesome. That’s how he got in. Pretending to be a business contact hadn’t been good enough to get into their house. He needed a better way, needed the way she offered, needed it. But he couldn’t, hadn’t been able to, froze up, and that’s when everything had gone to shit.
All he’d seen was Murdock, Murdock’s wide, trusting eyes, blinking back at him with a kind of emotion he’d never seen before, never felt before. Murdock, welcoming him in. Wanting to fall into that, like he’d never... it’d have been some kind of betrayal.
Because he wants Murdock.
He actually wants the crazy, insane, beautiful, pilot.
And he thinks, he actually thinks he might have...
“I fucked him, boss.”
“Fucked him?”
“I shouldn’t have done it, we were just screwing around and things got out of hand and I don’t know, Hannibal, jesus, I mean, I didn’t mean to...”
“Kid, wait, back up, you’re... gay?”
“Fuck, what difference does it make?” He pauses. “Bi. I’m bi.”
“And you slept with the stockbroker because you’re bi? Or you’re bi because you slept with the stockbroker? Kid, it’s okay to be confused about your...just because your balls might have touched or something...”
Where was he getting this stuff, and Face made a note to never, never ask. Typical Hannibal response, embarrass the fuck out of him until he told the truth. “No, goddamn it, Hannibal, I didn’t fuck him, I couldn’t, and that’s how everything went fubar on the mission, you’re not paying attention!”
“No, kid, you’re not making any sense.”
And then he just blurts it out. Like the last few awkward moments haven’t been bad enough. “Murdock, boss. It was Murdock. I ...”
Hannibal’s up, on his feet, banging back into the house.
And Face sinks back into himself.
Shit.
+++++
Face fell asleep outside.
Murdock’s watching him.
He looks a little cold.
It’s late, or really early, maybe. Time’s given him the slip again, in those dark portions of the night where it takes off and there’s nothing but touch, nothing but the way one thing feels against another. Nothing changes at night, and that’s all time is, the distance between one thing fading into another, the space between where he is and where he might go.
Time is uncertainty, that’s the whole point. But there’s no might, no uncertainty, not right now, not when time stops working, stops paying attention.
Just Murdock, left alone, and he doesn’t like that at all.
Face is alone, too.
He stirs a little, the conman, the lieutenant, his brilliant, insane, beautiful friend, as Murdock sits down next to him on the porch. The captain figures it’s okay, because this won’t change anything.
Change is impossible right now.
And isn’t that a shame? If he could change things right now, he’d wake Face up, ask him about him the game. Ask him if he’s okay, losing this last time with the job. Ask him if he wants to play again. Murdock doesn’t think he’d mind himself. It’d be nice to let Face have that.
Let Face win.
If it was like last time, he wouldn’t mind letting Face win.
Murdock can just imagine it, what he can do if he could move them from here to there, where he is to where he might go, maybe here to inside. Face’s room or his. He can see it all, because they’ve already done it, and that’s not changing. It’s not going away.
Face will take him softly by the hand, pull him up, lead him back to that bedroom. They’ll kiss again, so slow and easy, electricity sparking to the surface at the light touch as Face slides a hand back around his waist, fingers creeping forward, pads caressing him just right. Murdock will sigh, and Face will lay him back on the quilt.
Stripping them both, his buddy will lean in for another kiss and straddle him and his fingers will be slick at that point and pushing into him, luminous blue holding all his attention, holding him open, holding him to that moment.
There will be little noises, but mostly it will be silent, still, so good, everything hanging between them. Murdock will whisper, you’re beautiful and Murdock will say you’re perfect and love you..., like he’d wanted to the last time and only barely bit it back, and Face will smile and kiss him deeper and deeper as he sinks in, deeper and deeper, so far in. So right, it’ll be so right, just like it was last time.
Maybe Face will whisper back so tight or you’re gorgeous, HM or I love you, buddy, just like he did last time, when it was just a game. But it won’t be a game this time, so it won’t be what Face would say to a mark, it will be what Face will say to him, and Murdock will be soaring again, floating so high above everything, his best friend holding him down, holding him still, shuddering that glorious white warmth into him...
And things will be different. Things will change between them. It won’t hurt anymore. It won’t hurt, ever again.
Not like it always did before.
Not like it does, right now.
But things can’t change right now, and right now, he’s here and Face is there, both of them just so and suspended in the night that won’t let them be together. His friend, cuddled up next to his friend, and Murdock shivers a little. They’re friends, and he can’t change that.
Can’t make it any more.
Can’t make it any less.
At least there’s that.
They’re on the concrete, cold soaking up into Murdock through thin cotton shorts. He bumps his head into Face’s shoulder, and leaves it there, wishing one of those hands would come up and hold him still, hold him down, hold him in.
Stop him from floating off.
But Face doesn’t move in sleep again, and Murdock hugs in closer.
Waits for time to find him.
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the kink meme.
Movie-verse.Post Movie? Face and Murdock are having a night in while Hannibal and Ba are out. They're staying somewhere fancy and the conversation turns to Face's scamming skills etc etc.. ending up with Face agreeing to show Murdock how he would seduce a mark. Face then ends up spending hours gently making out with, making love to and driving Murdock out of (what's left of) his mind. Afterwards they both pretend to be cool with it, but Murdock is secretly devastated, no one's ever been like that with him and he thinks it was all an act. Face is horrified and confused 'cos he has never opened up like that before and it stopped being an act about 5 minutes after they began. Angsty times ensue. Bonus points if Hannibal and BA put them, er... straight.
Murdock and Face have a movie night where they both get something they’ve wanted for a long time, one that all goes to hell...
“No, really! How’d you get us this place this time, Faceman?”
Murdock loved how his voice echoed through the long hallway, up from the prep kitchen, down to the movie theater, where he knew the conman would be sprawled out in a plush leather lounge chair. Maybe scratching himself. He did that, when he thought nobody was watching.
Likes to pretend he’s better than all of that, Murdock thought to himself, but underneath all that expensive moisturizer, the good el-tee was a guy just like the rest of them.
Well, not exactly like the rest of them.
Prettier.
A lot prettier.
Good at getting places like this for them.
And the pilot shook the pot on the stove in the kitchen and smiled at that. back to safe thoughts, allowed thought, good thoughts. This house actually had three kitchens. Three kitchens, jacuzzi-sized bathtubs, a vast exercise room and a garage painted Ferrari red that had nearly given BA a heart attack.
Damn, it was nice to have a good place to crash in between missions.
The popping had stopped and Murdock stirred in the melted contents of the saucepan, dumped the whole thing into a big glass salad bowl. If they were going to have movie night, and if they were staying in a place this swank, they were going to have the good stuff. Real popcorn with real butter, like gran used to make.
“No, really, Face, how d’ya do it?” he yelled, sauntering down the hall. “It’s
“It’s all in the wrist, buddy!” Face replied, stretching a little to reach the remote for the DVD player as the projector warmed up. Hannibal and BA were out for the evening, the big guy at some wrestling thing and Hannibal with vague references to something that was either a jazz bar or a girl. So they were having movie night.
Murdock’s choice, Face had told the pilot, and the other man’s face had just lit up. So many choices. This place had a comprehensive library of movies, all kinds of movies, and he hadn’t been able to resist.
“Oh, motherfucker, Murdock! Timecop?”
“Turn back the clock and you’re history!” Murdock intoned cheerfully, and flopped down in the chair next to Face, popcorn scattering from the bowl. The lieutenant reached over automatically and rescued their snack before it upended. Face had already procured a TV tray for this purpose. Thinking of everything.
“You have got to be joking!”
“Sorry,” Murdock said sheepishly, looking over to see if his friend was really angry. “It’s just, you know, Timecop.”
“Dude,” Face agreed grudgingly as the film started. He was watching it, Murdock thought triumphantly.
“Wanna beer?”
“Hell yes.”
Murdock jumped up and made for the minifridge. Pabst, an acquired taste from college he’d never been able to buck. Face looked at it, started laughing as he took the can, and something in Murdock’s stomach flipflopped at the sound.
Like it always did.
He didn’t really understand it.
Ever since their second escape, over the past two years, since jail and the mission that had jacked their lives to shit, things had been different. Not just the running and the hiding and the strange jobs, but the closeness, the interdependencies had been deepening, changing, everything shifting around. Rules... changing.
Maybe he was the only one who’d noticed. Murdock wondered about that sometimes, how the other guys were faring. Hard enough staying up on what was going on in his own head without trying to figure theirs out for them. But maybe he understood better, cause sometimes he felt like he was the only one paying attention...
“Faceman?” he asked, blurting out the first thing that came to mind, trying to get away from the scary dark place the other thought was headed. Like a night flight with no instrumentation, except those were always...
“Mm-hmm?”
Half the movie was over. When had that happened? “How’d ya get this place?”
“Scammed it, buddy.” Face seemed really into the movie. Murdock smiled. Victory was his. Even if he was going to have to watch another sappy romance movie the next time it was Face's turn to pick.
“Yeah, but how?” This was what he was thinking about now. Not whatever he was wondering about before. This was a good thing to ask. “I mean, you don’t jus’ smile at the nice real estate lady an’ she hands over the keys to the castle...”
“Well, it’s a little more complicated than that,” Face shrugged, settled all the way back in the chair, nearly horizontal with the footrest up like that, can in hand. He waved it around a little as he talked. “You know, you have to do some, err...”
“Squeezin’?”
“I was gonna say pumping, but yeah.” Face sat up, eyes shiny with two beers and Murdock realized there were several more on the floor. His? Probably. “It’s not exactly Army-approved but it works. Hell, works really well.”
“I’ve never seen you do that.”
“You’ve seen me pick up girls all the time.”
“Not really. We mostly hear you flirt with ‘em on the phone or slap an ass or two...”
“What, you want to know how it works? Like, a demonstration or something?”
Murdock shrugged, and noticed something very important. Neither one of them was watching Jean Claude Van Damm flex his muscles up on the screen anymore.
They were looking at each other.
And the pilot felt a surge of fear as he realized his earlier thoughts and the more recent thoughts were merging into some new thought that would destroy the universe or something, crossing the streams, and Dr. Spengler said never to do that...
“We don’t have a girl around,” Murdock said, a little nervous now, the giggle coming out. “I don’t think they got any oversized stuffed animals we could practice with...”
Face laughed at that, alcohol just coloring the edge of the sound, and Murdock laughed along with him. The image of Face making out with a teddy bear was almost enough to set everything back to normal, but then his buddy said... “Okay, so, here’s the thing, and and you can’t tell cause Hannibal would kill if he knew...”
“Cross my heart,” Murdock said seriously, making the little sign over his heart.
“It’s, uh, it’s kind of funny, but it’s not always girls.” Face leaned down on his arm and smiled at Murdock. The pilot knew that smile. The same smile he used on a mark. That was part of this that Murdock had seen before.
The world started tilting, tilting enough for things to start sliding off that should have stayed in place. The words came out in Murdock’s voice. He didn’t ask them to. They just... came out. “Me neither.”
“Well, cool, so... want me to, uh, show you how it works?”
And everything came loose, all at the wrong time. “...sure.”
Face licked his lips a little and swung himself over the arm of the chair, walked over to Murdock. “Come on, buddy. Up.”
“What, Facey, thought you were jus’ gonna show...”
“Need a second person, duh. Come on, on your feet, captain.”
“Can’t we...” Murdock didn’t want to do this. This was going to be bad. He could tell. Paying attention to things that others didn’t see, he knew that this was going to be bad. But there Face was, hauling him vertical and straightening his shirt. That was hilarious. It was just his old Decepticon t-shirt, favorite jeans, nothing special. Face was kind of sizing him up. “Shouldn’t we...”
“Naw, it’s a game, always just a game,” his buddy said, clearly thinking of this as nothing more than that. Good. A game. He could do that. Games were good. “You want to see what I do with a female or a male mark?”
“It that different?”
“Can be. Depends. Everybody’s different,” Face said casually. He laid a soft hand on Murdock’s shoulder, walking around him once. “So, I look at you, I kind of take you in, figure out what you want, and then, you know, give you that.”
Murdock felt something flutter inside of him as the lieutenant, his friend, stopped right in front of him. “And what do I want, Faceman?”
“Oh, there’s a bell curve. Let’s stay within a standard deviation of that,” Face replied, leaning in just a little, just enough to brush his lips against Murdock’s. His hand was on Murdock’s chest, right above his heart. The pilot had to force himself to be still. To not fall into that touch.
Just a game.
“See? An overture, nothing forceful, nice and easy.”
“’S nice.”
“Yeah, I know, right? Okay, so, if the mark likes the invitation, they want more.” Murdock didn’t move, and Face leaned in, breath ghosting over his ear. “Work with me, buddy. Pretend I’m seducing this house out of you.”
“Okay.” Games. Good. Right. “W-why would I let you have this house?”
“Please?” Face replied, pressing his lips to Murdock’s, more than before but still chaste. Lips closed. Little pecks. Peck, and Murdock almost giggled again. “This is the part where I tell you some bullshit story that you believe because I’m so good at lying.” Those lips again, open now, the pilot’s opening under their gentle assault. Tongue. Soft, everything soft and easy. Face’s other hand moved to the pilot’s waist, that hand still trapped between them, their bodies so close, so warm. That kiss, turning and twisting but still so light, so good.
“Maybe I make you feel sad for me.” The kiss goes back to those little pecks again, leaving space for words. “Works best when you feel sorry for me. Protective instincts and all that.”
“Sounds...good.”
Face smiled, and Murdock realized that both the conman’s arms were up around his shoulders. That smile was dazzling, truly amazing. Like it was all for him. Like he was dazzling, amazing himself. A hand stroked into his hair. “It’s not that easy, buddy. Usually.”
“Then I think I need some more convincin’.”
“Okay.” There was a tease in Face’s voice, airy somehow, like being up in the clouds. “Please help me out here, sir. Need this...”
The kissing was back. And the kissing was good. The kissing was more than good. Murdock had never kissed anyone like this, never been kissed like this. Didn’t know kissing could be this good. Gentle but hard, no argument, deeper and deeper, breath stolen, arms tightened. Like Face was taking him apart, piece by piece, every molecule flying away, covalent bonds dissolving under the relentless assault of that horrendously talented mouth.
Murdock didn’t know how to respond. Everything was starting to crumble apart. It had never been like this. Usually people just took what they wanted and left, nothing good for him. But this just kept going and going and going.
And it was all good.
A really good game.
Walking down the hall, hands roaming, staying so light, so wonderful. Not demanding anything of him, not asking for anything. Offering. Everything on offer, everything Face was, everything Face could do, he could feel it against him. Coming to the surface. He'd never wanted anything so much in his life. He'd never wanted to run so, so badly.
But they were already running, weren't they? Towards, away, he didn't know. He didn't know where they were going.
Murdock was dimly aware that they were moving. Where to, he wasn’t sure until he blinked a few times. Oh, and that made sense. The den, one of the dens, the one that overlooked the pool outside, the one with the big windows Murdock liked so much, where you could see the stars, and the big white sofas.
Like the sofa Face was lowering himself onto, pulling Murdock down over the top of him, not breaking the kiss for a moment.
“Can I please use this place, sir?”
Oh right, the game. He liked the game. He liked that is was a game. “I think I’m okay with it.”
“It’s such a favor,” Face whispered in his ear. Hands tickled under the Starscream tee. A leg wrapped over the top of old jeans. Hips ground upwards. “Let me thank you properly.”
A full body shiver ran through Murdock, and he stared up into those blue eyes. The ones he'd seen nearly ten years ago, as bright and keen as they had been then. Ten years and a game. Well, a man took what he could get. "Just the game, right?"
Face paused for a moment, the smile fading and coming back. "Yeah, buddy."
His mouth felt dry. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
Face’s fingers worked their way around the soft fabric of Murdock’s t-shirt, peeling it off and away. It landed somewhere Murdock didn’t see, because the conman’s mouth was at his ear, palms moving again. “Then usually the mark...”
Oh yeah. Right. A mark would probably do something here too, right? Made sense. What Face was doing with his hands right now made Murdock want him. Want to see him, see him like Face was seeing him.
Or would be. But it was just a demonstration. Show and tell.
Murdock worked the buttons of Face’s own shirt apart and as soon as he hit the last one, Face was pushing up on one hand, letting it fall off that shoulder in some smooth, probably patented seduction move. The pale green, slipping away, revealing all that tanned, toned muscle. The pilot took it in for a moment. Not like in the showers or one of those times when Face was just walking around naked to piss Hannibal off. Nope. Not like that.
This was all for him.
Or would be.
If it wasn’t a game.
Good thing it was, because he couldn’t resist.
Murdock just had to slide that other sleeve down, run his hand back up, all the way up, up against the stubble. Face leaned into it, put a little of his weight on Murdock’s hand, letting him cradle him there for a moment, blue gone from his eyes now, and then the two of them were kissing again. More skin, more friction.
Very nice.
Face certainly knew what he was doing, Murdock thought, and then the lieutenant flipped them both around so it was the pilot who was on his back, and knew what Face was doing, and he almost panicked. But if he did that, the game would end.
Murdock didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t know when they’d get to play this again.
But then the rules changed.
His friend, his very best friend, had laid a hand back where it was before, over the hammering in Murdock’s chest. Slithered down, managing to rub every inch of them together. Kneeled between curled knees. Unbuckled, unzipped, undid, undoing...
“Hey, Faceman?”
“What is it, buddy?”
It was a mistake, but nothing was in its right place right now, so Murdock said it. “It, uh, this, I’d believe you.”
Wait, no. Not that. Wrong thing to say. Wasn't it the wrong thing to say? Too real, too real, too real...
But it got him a wink. Reassurance. Reminder. That Face was just playing a game and that was okay because he was playing, too. Not real. “That’s cause I’m really, really grateful.”
Murdock wanted to reply, say he understood, but groaned instead in a voice he didn’t recognize and a language he didn’t remember as that tongue licked up the underside of his cock, swirled over the head, and took him in fully.
Everything flew apart after that.
Moments stretched out into hours, shifted and twisted back into themselves, a mobius strip of sensation, things coming in and out and ending and starting. The game kept changing, too quick for Murdock to follow. He’d concentrate on something and it would slip away, the feel of Face’s hair, his mouth, the smooth slide of fingers, night air, the hard insistence of that cock against his thigh, the way dawn felt before it came, the quiet little whispers, telling him he was beautiful, perfect, wanted, kissing, breath not his own, the scent exhaled there, like cheap beer and gunpowder and the thrill of a good hunt, good shot, good laugh, the sweet little smile that was all an act and he closed his eyes against it all and suddenly realized that there was no pain.
No pain at all.
He was looking for the pain, because there was always pain with these things, but there wasn’t any, and didn’t that make sense in a way? Because it was just a game and a game couldn’t hurt you.
He lay there in Face’s bed, or his bed, or BA’s, or maybe Hannibal’s or one of the six other in the house, watching the new day move over the ceiling, sneaking in through the wide, wide window. His buddy was stretched out beside him on his belly, limbs scattered around in the sheets. Easy.
Of course it was easy.
Just a game.
And it was over, so there was no reason to stay. Murdock padded out, picking up his jeans from where they’d fallen and pulled them on, headed to the den to grab his t-shirt. Face’s was closer, and that’s what ended up in his hand.
“You boys have a good night?” Hannibal, Hannibal standing behind him in the doorway, coffee and cigar balanced in the same hand, eyes a little glossy.
“Swam the English channel!” This was another game Murdock played, played with everybody, giving them something they wanted to see so they didn’t look anywhere else. Like Face, but all the time and with everyone. Not just when the team needed something, not just when it was fun. “I think I set a new record!”
Hannibal jabbed at the shirt in Murdock’s hands. “You boys go for a swim?”
He looked at it. “Watched Timecop, too!”
The boss rolled his eyes, muttered something about twelve year olds and kept walking. Down the hall and away. Murdock listened to him go, and looked at the shirt in his hands. He’d forgotten it was there. How’d he forget that?
Curious at how something so real could disappear so quickly and come back again, Murdock brought it to his face and breathed deep. like cheap beer and gunpowder and the thrill of a good hunt, good shot, good laugh, good friend, good game...
All of it. Just a game.
He dropped the shirt and fled for the hall, the bathroom, the tub, suddenly frightened of how things could do that to him, be there and not be there and he couldn’t there either, not with that shirt that wasn’t there but was. Murdock clawed the facet and the water came and he sat under the spray as his jeans got heavier and heavier, anchoring him down until he finally remembered what was real.
How much this hurt. Like it always hurt, but different. Worse.
And then the tears came.
+++++
“Have you seen Murdock today?” Face yawned, shuffling into the show kitchen, the really nice one on the main floor, and going for a cabinet. BA’s secret stash of junk food. He plunked the foil-wrapped packet down on the counter, grabbed a can out of the fridge, and noticed Hannibal staring at him over the top of a newspaper.
“Beer and pop-tarts, lieutenant?”
Face stared back and popped the tab on the beer. Another of Murdock’s PBRs, and he wasn’t in the mood for the boss’ bullshit right now. He’d woken up alone, and for the first time in years, that bothered him. It bothered him a lot. “I just haven’t seen him.”
“He was in the den this morning, picking up your clothes.” Hannibal tapped the ash off his cigar, watching his lieutenant wolf down one of the pack’s frosted pastry. “Swimming the English Channel, I think it was.”
Last night had been... and Face smirked at the colonel, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. English Channel? He could go with that. “You get laid last night, boss?”
“Murdock’s taking a shower, kid,” Hannibal said, shaking the paper back out. “Put some damn clothes on for once, would ya?”
And Face figured that was all he was going to get. He slapped the other pop-tart on top of his beer and made his way back to his bedroom.
Where Murdock wasn’t.
His stomach tightened, thinking about it. How he’d taken the pilot, their, his, crazy, beautiful pilot, by the hand and led him back here. Said things, did things, things he hadn’t wanted to, things he couldn’t stop, things he could never take back, things he could never forget.
Face hadn’t meant to, hadn’t meant for that to happen, hadn’t meant for it to get...
He stopped by the bathroom, one of the bathrooms, where he heard the shower running and where Murdock had to be. He knocked, then tried the handle, but Murdock wasn’t answering and the door was locked. “Hey, buddy, you okay in there?”he asked.
There was a pause. “Yeah, Faceman! Gotta get all that seawater off!”
“Right,” Face replied, too soft for Murdock to hear over the noise of the running water, and turned back to his own room.
His own room, where Murdock should have been, had been, just a few hours before, the two of them wrapped around each other, coming down together, Face still deep inside him, playing that beautiful dark hair out of those stormy blue eyes, calm for once, full. Both of them, full. Himself, full. Like he’d never...
Face flopped back into the bed.
Motherfucker, he could smell Murdock on the sheets, that warm, warm smell, and Face burrowed into it, just for a moment, just to feel it again.
What the hell had they done?
What the hell had he done?
+++++
Hannibal was working on a job for them. Boss told them so as soon as BA crawled out of wherever, whenever he crashed last night. Screened the client last night, everything looked just fine. Should be starting in a few days, nothing too complicated, and Murdock was even going to get to fly a chopper.
Thank fuck, Face thought, and got his fourth beer of the morning. He couldn't take another guys' night in. It might kill him.
Lunch soon, the pilot outside messing with the grill, something vague about burgers and coleslaw. The lieutenant sipped, not knowing if he was drunk or not. He suspected not. It rarely happened anymore.
That’s what you get for learning to drink in the military. That was his super power. As Murdock would say.
Murdock. Out playing with the grill. The beer wasn’t making that sick feeling in Face’s stomach go away, but it wasn’t making it worse. His buddy spent an hour in the shower, possibly keeping with the nautical theme of the morning, and when he finally emerged, wrapped in a towel and waving broadly as he passed Face in the hallway.
Unaffected, the conman thought with a sinking heart. Everything was a game to the pilot, nothing solid, nothing real. Why would... is sex even the right word for what they did last night? Seemed like sex, tasted and sounded like sex usually tasted and sounded, but it hadn’t felt like sex.
It had been more like...
Face groaned to himself before that could surface. Did he really need to face that, deal with that word, that thing? He knew he screwed up. Fuck, he’d put too much of himself out there last night. He wanted, hadn’t known it until, hasn’t realized...
“Faceman, what’d ya do to him?”
Face winced. BA. Fuck. BA, and he schooled his features in careful neutrality. “What do you mean, Bosco?”
A hand wrapped up in his shirt and drug him away from the window, out of the den that overlooks the pool and hurtled him against the back of the hallway. “What did you do?”
He hadn’t ever heard BA sound like this. This clear. This... controlled.
That anger, aimed at him, and how much worse was it going to be if the big guy found out... and it hit him - did he break the pilot? No, no, that couldn’t be true. He couldn’t hurt Murdock. He wasn’t capable. He hadn’t known how incapable of that he was until last night.
So it’s not really lying to BA when he said, “nothing, I swear. We watched movies.” It was a desperate bid for that to be true. It had to be true. Because he couldn’t have hurt Murdock.
That couldn’t happen.
BA stared at him for a moment. Stared right through him, and hit the wall beside Face’s head. Stormed off towards the garage. “Whatever you did, you ain’t doing it again, fool!”
“Okay, I promise, no more Van Damm movies!” Face yelled back down the hall after him, and only managed to stay upright until the big guy vanished from sight.
Then his legs stopped working for a while.
When he was able to stand, he pulled himself back up the wall with a sweating hand, and retrieved his beer and sauntered out onto the wide patio, with the grill and Hannibal, reading in the sunlight, where Murdock watched him for a moment, just a moment, before clapping him on the shoulder and asking him something that seemed totally innocent in that stream of consciousness babble.
“We okay, man?” Face asked, stopping the pilot mid-stride.
“Fine, Faceman,” and that crooked little smile, the one he loved so much, was back. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”
“I was a little drunk last night and, uh, I think I might have...”
“Nothing to it. Think you’re the victor o’ that game anyway,” Murdock said with a nod and went back to the grill. “You want yours still mooing?”
There was a lock of hair hanging in his friend’s face, and it was all the lieutenant could do to keep from slicking it back behind an ear himself. He wanted to touch it again. Wanted to touch everything again.
But he couldn’t. Murdock had already moved on.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be great.”
+++++
The job had gone all to shit. Three weeks, and it had all gone to shit.
It should have been easy. Should have been simple. Hannibal’s plan was flawless, just like Hannibal’s plans were always flawless, and the job was simple. There was nothing to it.
And everything had gone to shit.
Hannibal’s done yelling. Hannibal’s done with everything. The colonel had just chewed Face out over his complete and utter lack of discipline, his failure to make the con work, and now he’s running, like he likes to sometimes, but usually not after a job this bad.
They’d almost all gotten arrested. BA had been shot. And now Hannibal was running. Murdock doesn’t know what Face was doing. It was all just... bad.
“That fool done yet?” BA grunts and Murdock hands him a glass of water.
“Sounds like.”
“And you? No lightning bolts.”
The big guy’s not really hurt, not too bad anyway. They’ve all had worse and Murdock pulled the bullet out himself, stitching it up right now. He’s got BA knocked up on a couple of Valium from his own collection, the good stuff, the stuff Face scams for him...
And Murdock almost drops the needle.
“Watch whatcha doing, fool!”
“Sorry,” the pilot says, and cringes a little. “No lightnin’ bolt, promise.”
BA is drugged up, laid out on the table in the kitchen of the place they’re staying now. Not nearly as nice as this last place, but decent. The bullet went in the meat right below his hip, missed the bone, didn’t penetrate very deep. “Faceman okay?”
“I don’t know.” He can’t meet the mechanic’s eyes. “I don’t know.”
“You know everything he’s doin’, Murdock.”
Murdock has to think about that. No, he doesn’t know anymore, not since Face won the game. No victory for Murdock in defeat.
“Don’t make any sense, BA,” he says, thinking about it. “Why’s Hannibal mad?”
“Face fucked up, got us made.”
“How could Face fuck up?” Murdock pulls the last stitch tight and clips it. He’s watched enough medical drama to know how to do this right. Slaps a dressing down. “He’s so good at that game.”
BA’s drugged up, but that doesn’t mean he’s not aware. And isn’t that so like BA, Murdock thinks. He’s paying attention all the time. He’s the only of them that doesn’t play games. Maybe that’s why he seems to understand it all. Maybe that’s how he catches what Murdock didn’t mean to let slip. “How would you know that, crazy fool?”
Everything’s been slipping loose lately. Like his stupid words. Nothing stays where he leaves it anymore. Like Face. Face isn’t where he left him in bed that morning, all cocky and easy and victorious. Face wins. Face always wins, because Face is so good at the game. “It’s what he is, BA. Hannibal runs and you build and Face wins.”
“I was home that night, HM,” and Murdock starts at that, he’s never heard the big guy use his name, or initial. Moniker, whatever. See, see, Murdock tells himself. Not even BA isn’t where he’s supposed to be. He’s not building anything up.
He’s taking it apart. Why does BA want to take him apart, too?
“I came back ‘round midnight. Heard you two...”
“Wasn’t nothin’, BA.”
“Nothin’ makes it worse, Murdock. You know it bein’ nothing makes it worse.” A frown creases the black man’s face, where it’s propped up on his hands, watching Murdock wash his blood off the mat knife and tweezers down the kitchen sink. Everything, just washing away. The pilot can’t bring himself to respond, and BA leaves it alone, go back to something earlier, back before everything slipped loose, like it never happened. “What do you do, Murdock?”
Where’s Face? Why isn’t Face in here? Why isn’t Face in here, joking with BA and making jokes about how that cop took a piece out of his ass and whining about how, how...
“I float,” he tells BA, and smiles. “Ain’t that the way it’s s’posed t’be?”
BA doesn’t say anything. It’s going to be a while before they can get him off the table. He’s a lot of weight to move. Can't shift that loose too easy, and Murdock curls up on a chair next to him, touching that solid bulk, not wanting to slip like everything else is slipping.
He closes his eyes, and doesn't think about Face.
+++++
Hannibal doesn’t show up until well after dark, sweatshirt stained down to the hem and panting hard.
“Get the fuck off the front porch,” he growls, barely looking down.
Face spreads his hands, hears the door jerk open and something in him snaps. That something that’s been building up for the past three weeks, since that stupid fucking movie and the stupid fucking question and his stupid fucking offer, and it’s all been wrong since then.
He can’t stop thinking about it. He thought it would leave his mind and it won’t, and he can’t face anything. Not the damn con, not the team, not his best friend... “Boss...”
Those feet stop and the door slams shut again, and Hannibal’s staring down at him. Face doesn’t need to look up to the man to know that. Twelve years, and Face just knows when the man’s staring at him. “What is it, lieutenant?”
Okay, so the boss is resorting to rank right now, but at least he’s not screaming. Anymore. “I fucked up,” he says slowly.
“Yeah you did. And we already...”
“I couldn’t do it, Hannibal.”
“What, you couldn’t pull a con you’ve pulled a hundred times? What was so complicated about it, Face? All you had to do was...”
“...sleep with that stockbroker’s wife, right?” Hannibal’s not saying anything. Face still can’t look up at him. “You did realize that’s you were asking me to do?”
“What do you want me to say to that, kid?”
“You treat me like the team whore.”
“You treat yourself like the team whore, Face! Don’t put that on me! There were a hundred ways you could have approached that situation and you chose...”
“...to not sleep with them.”
Oh, fuck. Pronouns, goddamn them.
“Exactly, if you’d just...” and then Hannibal gets it. Because then Hannibal goes quiet, and sits down next to Face. The kid pulls his knees up to his chest and stares at nothing. “What do you mean, them?”
“There was the couple, like, the wife and... the husband.”
“What are you talking about?”
Face doesn’t really know. He couldn’t do it, hadn’t been able to do it. The wife wanted a threesome. That’s how he got in. Pretending to be a business contact hadn’t been good enough to get into their house. He needed a better way, needed the way she offered, needed it. But he couldn’t, hadn’t been able to, froze up, and that’s when everything had gone to shit.
All he’d seen was Murdock, Murdock’s wide, trusting eyes, blinking back at him with a kind of emotion he’d never seen before, never felt before. Murdock, welcoming him in. Wanting to fall into that, like he’d never... it’d have been some kind of betrayal.
Because he wants Murdock.
He actually wants the crazy, insane, beautiful, pilot.
And he thinks, he actually thinks he might have...
“I fucked him, boss.”
“Fucked him?”
“I shouldn’t have done it, we were just screwing around and things got out of hand and I don’t know, Hannibal, jesus, I mean, I didn’t mean to...”
“Kid, wait, back up, you’re... gay?”
“Fuck, what difference does it make?” He pauses. “Bi. I’m bi.”
“And you slept with the stockbroker because you’re bi? Or you’re bi because you slept with the stockbroker? Kid, it’s okay to be confused about your...just because your balls might have touched or something...”
Where was he getting this stuff, and Face made a note to never, never ask. Typical Hannibal response, embarrass the fuck out of him until he told the truth. “No, goddamn it, Hannibal, I didn’t fuck him, I couldn’t, and that’s how everything went fubar on the mission, you’re not paying attention!”
“No, kid, you’re not making any sense.”
And then he just blurts it out. Like the last few awkward moments haven’t been bad enough. “Murdock, boss. It was Murdock. I ...”
Hannibal’s up, on his feet, banging back into the house.
And Face sinks back into himself.
Shit.
+++++
Face fell asleep outside.
Murdock’s watching him.
He looks a little cold.
It’s late, or really early, maybe. Time’s given him the slip again, in those dark portions of the night where it takes off and there’s nothing but touch, nothing but the way one thing feels against another. Nothing changes at night, and that’s all time is, the distance between one thing fading into another, the space between where he is and where he might go.
Time is uncertainty, that’s the whole point. But there’s no might, no uncertainty, not right now, not when time stops working, stops paying attention.
Just Murdock, left alone, and he doesn’t like that at all.
Face is alone, too.
He stirs a little, the conman, the lieutenant, his brilliant, insane, beautiful friend, as Murdock sits down next to him on the porch. The captain figures it’s okay, because this won’t change anything.
Change is impossible right now.
And isn’t that a shame? If he could change things right now, he’d wake Face up, ask him about him the game. Ask him if he’s okay, losing this last time with the job. Ask him if he wants to play again. Murdock doesn’t think he’d mind himself. It’d be nice to let Face have that.
Let Face win.
If it was like last time, he wouldn’t mind letting Face win.
Murdock can just imagine it, what he can do if he could move them from here to there, where he is to where he might go, maybe here to inside. Face’s room or his. He can see it all, because they’ve already done it, and that’s not changing. It’s not going away.
Face will take him softly by the hand, pull him up, lead him back to that bedroom. They’ll kiss again, so slow and easy, electricity sparking to the surface at the light touch as Face slides a hand back around his waist, fingers creeping forward, pads caressing him just right. Murdock will sigh, and Face will lay him back on the quilt.
Stripping them both, his buddy will lean in for another kiss and straddle him and his fingers will be slick at that point and pushing into him, luminous blue holding all his attention, holding him open, holding him to that moment.
There will be little noises, but mostly it will be silent, still, so good, everything hanging between them. Murdock will whisper, you’re beautiful and Murdock will say you’re perfect and love you..., like he’d wanted to the last time and only barely bit it back, and Face will smile and kiss him deeper and deeper as he sinks in, deeper and deeper, so far in. So right, it’ll be so right, just like it was last time.
Maybe Face will whisper back so tight or you’re gorgeous, HM or I love you, buddy, just like he did last time, when it was just a game. But it won’t be a game this time, so it won’t be what Face would say to a mark, it will be what Face will say to him, and Murdock will be soaring again, floating so high above everything, his best friend holding him down, holding him still, shuddering that glorious white warmth into him...
And things will be different. Things will change between them. It won’t hurt anymore. It won’t hurt, ever again.
Not like it always did before.
Not like it does, right now.
But things can’t change right now, and right now, he’s here and Face is there, both of them just so and suspended in the night that won’t let them be together. His friend, cuddled up next to his friend, and Murdock shivers a little. They’re friends, and he can’t change that.
Can’t make it any more.
Can’t make it any less.
At least there’s that.
They’re on the concrete, cold soaking up into Murdock through thin cotton shorts. He bumps his head into Face’s shoulder, and leaves it there, wishing one of those hands would come up and hold him still, hold him down, hold him in.
Stop him from floating off.
But Face doesn’t move in sleep again, and Murdock hugs in closer.
Waits for time to find him.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-30 10:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-30 10:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 07:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 07:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-31 07:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 01:00 am (UTC)"Kid, it’s okay to be confused about your...just because your balls might have touched or something...”
That is probably the funniest Hannibal line I've ever read. God I love "awkward dad" Hannibal. HA!
Also, if you write a sequel to this, I will swoon for you. Swoon!
no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 01:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 01:45 am (UTC)*sigh*
So, so glad I don't have roommates anymore.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 01:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 02:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 02:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 03:17 am (UTC)But we had some issues too that we constantly had to explain to the younger girls (like locking their doors at night), like one time we caught one of the guys dead drunk, pissing on the wall in one of the freshman girls' rooms... didn't happen often, but it happened enough to where things tended to be less fun and games and more serious problems...
no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-18 05:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-18 05:24 am (UTC)JAG
Date: 2011-03-06 04:36 am (UTC)I loved the Hannibal and BA played in this. Loved the conversation between Face and Hannibal.
Heck, I loved every single word, every single puncuation mark in this. :D
Except maybe the end, because I really, really wanted Face to wake up and them to have the talk they need to have. :D I've gotta add to the call for a sequel to this, or at least a little epilogue. It is just so sad to leave them like that when they love each other so much! :(
Thanks for writing such a great fic! :)
Re: JAG
Date: 2011-03-06 04:47 am (UTC)sequel pleeeeease!
Date: 2011-03-08 05:38 pm (UTC)